


Born of Water, Blood and of Nectar

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: The Little Deputy [1]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Choking, Dom/sub, Drowning, Exhibitionism, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Rough Fingering, Rough Sex, Voyeurism, lots of mud and sweat, mentions of past sex addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:42:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Friend asked: John Seed. Far cry 5. Sexed up twist on the baptism scene with a drowning kink.A/N: This took me longer than it should have, but I hope I got John's character down well enough. Warning for John Seed and some slightly dubious themes. Also drowning and choking... <3





	Born of Water, Blood and of Nectar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A friend](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=A+friend).



She was seven when her Father was shot and killed… buried a week later on a day filled with spring sunshine unbecoming such a traumatic moment in her life. No open casket - no reporters. No face. It was just his daughter and the force in attendance. The stained purple of the priest's robes still hung in her mind - the gold threading of Celtic patterns and the rich roping-hem embroidered there that, for some reason, seemed so important now.

 

Water fills her lungs as the body forgets logic and tries to breathe. A noose of liquid. A rope of bone and muscle and of cruel fingers that want just one word.

 

_Yes._

 

Another memory passes across her vision like her own globby air bubbles rushing to the surface. She sees scraped knees and tears - laughter and puppies - as the oxygen-pure spheres retreat and burst above the surface.

 

At the moment of her birth, her Mother passed from sudden cardiac arrest. Some undiagnosed heart problem overlooked by a small town Doctor. A rough pregnancy - as her daughter would later find out in her teens - only exacerbated the birth defect of the woman who’d never seen her baby. A mother. A goddess…

 

_… fuck these people’s God._

 

Hands squeeze and her chest burns. Pressure builds up around every nerve in her head as Death starts laughing above the liquid veil. Water distorts the vague shape of a monster and, as the darkness crawls closer, the lonely Deputy imagines her mother standing behind the smeared outline of the youngest Seed brother. She’s a halo of light. A vision from God maybe but there’s no doubt she's a Deity of Rebirth and of Welcoming, and just as the last bubbles escape the back of her throat, she’s yanked forward into a new world.

 

She breathes, gasping for breath… sobbing like a newborn and scratches at the wet forearms bulging above tight clamping fists. Something sticky and warm pools under her nails, but there’s nothing but a soft, stern breath above as the blood wells under her vicious, frantic claws. Oxygen-starved blood burns her brain, spreading out across all the little wrinkles and tucked away neurons until she’s trembling with the shakes and blinking away water to see the gorgeous and so vile, face smiling down at her.

 

“It’s a simple thing. Just say it - just… say yes,” John says and ends on a dark, almost sweet note.

 

The healing scab on her wrist throbs as he speaks; a reminder of the infinite tv sets she’s smashed and the one that bit back with a dagger of cutting glass. She smacks her lips, swallows the tang of pond water and gulps down more air.

 

 _No,_ she thinks, bearing her teeth and then burps up a mess of stomach acid and lake water before clearing her throat.

 

“Fu-“ she barely gets the insult out before, once again, there’s no breath left to tell him off. Hard, unflinching knuckles dent deeper around her throat, and even with burning eyes, she sees the second he drops the act - the moment his eyes lose that rose-tinted purpose and the actual soul tears open. His sin is ugly. _Sloth… he could only hold onto his faith for so long before succumbing to his base nature,_ she thinks.

 

_A monster held beneath silk string..._

 

The Deputy gags in his grip - water slipping and sliding along her shoulders. Water heavy flannel sags against her collarbones, and as she scrambled around his wrists, a button loosens. Cold night air hits the wet of a bare shoulder. Humiliation haunts her. The strap of a red bra catches John’s sadistic lust; eyes trailing around the bare skin growing against her struggle. He stares, lazy - taking his time as her legs kick and burn - before smiling near-dashing. A thumb strokes over the front of her throat, teasing the bulging flesh with carnality and more sin.

 

The game is up. The Deputy sees Lust in him, but not in ink or scar tissue.

 

“You’ll say yes,” the sound of knives through welcoming flesh, “you’ll say yes… and you’ll be free. Do it for yourself. Let me give you the greatest of gifts - the sweetest release from your mortal coil.”

 

He’s not asking. He’s telling, and he’ll kill her just as quickly as the water will fill and drench her lungs. There is no escape this time. She was ‘the one that wasn’t supposed to make it this far’ - now she was as good as gone.

 

John grins a valley of raised tombstones - bleached white and perfectly aligned - as he lowers her like a lover to sheets of cold crushing water.

 

The summer of ninety-nine comes in clouds of air bubbles. She feels trembling lips on her cheek. That black boy with a crush leans in after she’d smiled like a fool in love and dares to plant one on her mouth. It’s sudden and new, and she wanted some of that after the foster homes and the moving and all the hormones gluing bad memories together. She wanted to feel… something… anything that wasn’t lonesomeness.

 

Muted chuckles drift down through the water.

 

John laughs as her legs kick, and her fingers curl and dent and drag; skin tearing. That sweet boy passes by... the less sweet ones at bars do as well, some with wives she’d never known about. All those faces like alcohol fizz float on by. Wet nights - those evening left wanting more, never getting the thing she needed most - dissolves and moonlight filters down through six inches of water where her mind is fading again.

 

Warmth, like hot coffee down the wrong hole, gets her throat spasming.

 

She treads water harder, struggles more violently and feels the oxygen leave her body that much faster. Her heart pounds slowly. She’s dying but in the weakening fight a thigh is shifted between her legs, and that choking warmth shoots down… down… down… that need for something… for anything given...

 

_John…_

 

 _John Seed,_ she thinks instead of willing her Mother’s glorified image back to mind. The youngest of the three. The little brother but not so little that he won’t drown her like an unwanted curr that’s gone too feral.

 

_No._

 

_Yes..._

 

A moan - lost in the water - drifts out on a bubble of air. It cuts through her coffin of water as John drowns her and laughs. The wet, muscular thigh keeping her legs from reaching his face bumps and bangs against her cunt, triggering sparks of strange pleasure within a body dulled by near-death. She swallows water and tells herself it’ll be over soon but it’s only just begun. When her legs jerk softly, and her claws unhook, beginning to fall, John pulls her from the grave as the darkness sweeps in.

 

The Deputy dies for a little while, she can feel it like a lover that knows what she wants - knows the name of the thing she’s been hunting for in liquor hazes and self-loathing. Death touches her deep below the skin, muscle, bone, and marrow. She feels broken and supped on like a wolf on a doe carcass and moans as the shore hits her back.

 

“-stand here and watch! She’s shown us her sin - but God needs her confession!”

 

Whispers and cheers and praises. All that sentimental sap spoken to Joseph and to God and to John hits her ears. They all fade in and out like echo ripples softened by mental distortion. She turns her head and vomits the waters of life, groaning as the air strokes down her half-naked chest and bare stomach. Everything feels raw; burned just shy of pain. Cold and alive.

 

Bare and blushing and splayed out in a weak sort of need, The Deputy ankles the shoreline and spreads one leg open in wanting. Each gasp is small - not enough. It’s never been enough.

 

She blinks tears and water, rolls her eyes up and watches under stuck lashes as John Seed - sadist… masochist, confessed sinner - takes a blade of moonlight to her and leans in until the warmth of his breath replaces the cold crisp of cooling night skies.

 

Looking handsome, devilish and charming with a hint of empty hunger, he whispers, “... I know you - I know your sin… because,” and then suddenly his eyes open in an honest confession, too low for anyone but her to hear, “I know it intimately. Finding anything to fill the holes, making more only to be left wanting… I can replace your emptiness, Deputy.”

 

Louder, so the rest of them can hear, he continues, “But let’s show them first hand what your Lust makes you become. Why she needs to scream her sin!”

 

Peggie’s raise their hands in great prayer, shouting to the heavens as the blade flashes between her and John.

 

The Seed brother hums, basking in the mantra around them - trimmed beard wet with fresh droplets of moisture from the baptism - and hooks the knife above her heart. He saws the clasp of red between her breasts in two. Hot flesh spills free, steaming against the cold, but the Deputy only swallows beyond bruised muscle and tries to breathe faster; sexual vapors mimicking oxygen. Soon enough she’s starved and panting, growing hotter...

 

Eyes hover like fingers denting her flesh as John looks through the gathering.

 

For a second he looks fearful. For a moment she sees a child in those eyes - a child that's gotten used to being backhanded for any and every true or false slight. He checks the crowd of Peggies, finds nothing and no one to stop him… only brainwashed souls ready to see what John Seed wills them to, and he smirks.

 

“... fuck you,” she manages; hoarse like wood chips and blood. It’s a weak insult and one she doesn’t mean because a second later she bends her spine, raising pebbled nipples further into the air.

 

He shushes her gently, pressing a hand over her naked shoulder and then strokes downward, dragging smooth warmth down cold, damp skin until he cups a nipple-tight breast. Squeeze. Pinch and pull...

 

“You’ll scream worse filth to me, to God… to them,” he gestures with a smile.

 

“I’ll have you confessing your sins with tears in your eyes and then,” John digs that knife between bare hip and thick, unflattering denim, “we’ll see how much longer you’ll lay there and deny your sin.”

 

The Deputy blinks tears long before the knife starts parting her denim like cheesecloth. She twitches, moans despite herself and listens as a woman in the gathering begins a soft chanting under her breath - it’s quiet, but to her, it’s a siren.

 

John straddles her thighs. He whistles with paused ‘hmm’ and ‘haa’s’ that make her skin prickle. His thumb swipes over her nipple as an afterthought - as though adding oil to a dying fire. She swallows a sound of greedy pleasure and watches the stars. Cleansed. Filled. Birthed anew by water and something hot under his skin too burning to not be fire.

 

“Every hole you have and every empty wound you’ve never been able to fill… I’ll fill it - make it overpour. Indulge you in your sin,” his fingers fall away from her breast, leaving taut nerves, and begins the aching process of dragging her ruined jeans down her thighs, “and when you still feel empty?”

 

Threads rip under the blade, and mud hits her bare backside as the last barriers are yanked and taken from her like the worn hiking boots two-sizes too big. Easy.

 

Leaning over her with parted lips and a look as sinful as the sin he claims lays within her, John continues under his breath, “You’ll say yes. Oh, you’ll scream it. Drenched in the fluids of life - water?” he tisks, “... no, it’s not good enough for you. I’ll make you scream - fill you until you can’t take anymore but you’ll take more and then… then you’ll see.”

 

John’s promise is not without threat, and there is no time wasted. He descends on her like she's the hot meal he’s been starving for could. He gropes and pulls and strokes her until she's moaning and raw, feeling along her nakedness like it'll be snatched from him at any time - as though Joseph is on the road, about to arrive and spoiled his fun.

 

As fucked up as Joseph is… as misguided and manipulative and - more monstrous - the middle Seed brother would not let his little brother indulge himself this way. No combatting sin with more sin. Yet, despite the hypocrisy, the Deputy hitches with pleasure as three rough fingers delve down her mound, curls inward and stabs through smooth, wet muscles without warning. John thrusts until the scrap of round nails hits her cervix. She whimpers, sucking in a breath that could as easily been a moan and watches his grin spread like a wolf’s as his knuckles part; stretching her open. His fingers pull back only to fuck back inside, setting a rough and purposeful pace until she’s shoved into the wet ground - teeth grinding - and burning with bliss.

 

The pleasure begins low in her gut, but his fingers slide away too soon, hovering between their joined gazes. He licked his lips and parts his fingers in webs of transparent moisture under the moonlight. He turns, gazing heatedly down at her before raising his stained hand into the air. The onlookers gaze at what he’s found; marveling.

 

“You see?! This! This is her sin and we… we will cleanse every crevice and wound she’s opened of it.”

 

The Deputy does not struggle. There’s no reason to fight it when she’s been exposed beyond what mere nakedness can rip from her. Torn open like this.

 

Every self-perpetuating thing she’s done in the name of fulfillment and love, and release has been presented. Bare skin shines with damp water, sweat and stains of mud. She welcomes it when John shoves her deeper into the muck - hand on her throat - and pulls confessions from her sopping cunt until she’s choking on moans like they are chants themselves.

 

As his fingers dent her soul, sliding slick and rough between her thighs, she feels the blood grow weak in her head. Her cheeks feel tight. Flesh about to rupture with something that could be a completion but won’t be what she's been searching for her whole life. The suffocation is worse than the drowning, but better and yet nowhere near as beautiful. The moans she can’t help but spew begin to thin under his squeezing grip. Pleasure bubbles but the noises it usually warrants are choked whimpers and then… as she feels her insides clenching and John's panting breath ghosting her bare, bouncing breasts… there’s no sound at all.

 

His face melts before her. Darkness swallows him whole like a whale in a tale but just before she slips away, John’s fingers loosen, and she gasps… awoken to the world like a newborn.

 

Colors shine like crystal dew laces combed at the edges. The black turns murky and bright.

 

Some disgustingly hard and undignified groan folds from deep in her belly. She sees the stark blue of sadistic eyes watching their efforts fruit and feels density build and build… and yes...

 

Pressure releases in a burst of bliss as oxygen rushes back to her brain. That sweet high of endorphins leaves her wanting more, so she snarls and slaps a muddy palm over John’s taut wrist, feeling the fingers react to the touch by squeezing her throat once more. His wet fingers curl hard, dragging out and in and out again until she hears the sound of her own body trying to suckle his digits back inside.

 

The palm around her throat pinches artery and tendon and her face balloons again. His thumb twists over the nerve bundle above her folds, eliciting more puffy moans and stifled breaths. The Deputy trembles, licking her lips and gasping shamelessly underneath him with each orgasm. Needing more and never saying yes… but John never stops. He's so sure she'll be shouting it before long.

 

Sweat builds under her clutching fist. His or her perspiration? - it doesn’t matter. There may be beads of sweat on his brow, but she’s drenched in it as she cums and cums and pulls her thighs up around his lean hips; begging for more. For something thick and hard. It’s revolting - the need.

 

The Deputy leaks tears of bliss while hating herself more and more with each moan and each orgasm.

 

“It’s just one word,” John Seed hums on a drizzle of honey-like timbre.

 

He’s smiling with lips parted, pulling in hungry inhales like a ravenous beast. Her thighs tremble again, and his fist uncoils around her throat, letting her cum on a blanket of blood-starved capillaries. Something flashes in his eyes, and it’s hot and cold. Love and hate. Desire and revulsion.

 

“... monster,” she hisses on the cusp of an orgasm she can’t count.

 

By now she’s raw.

 

“Faith has her Bliss, Jacob has his wolves… Joseph his love… but I’ll have you, Deputy, “John whispers - private and close enough his cologned sweat mixes with her own perspiration, “... you’ll say yes to me… no matter the request.”

 

Pleasure swiftly becomes pain as his fingers play roughly between her thighs, but the kiss he shoves over her mouth soothes like drink soothes hurt. It hurts and yet she doesn’t feel it. It hurts and yet she wants more, panting in the fresh night air against his hungry mouth. Billowing whisps of steam blend between their mouths - it coils off her naked skin and seems to fill the night air like a forest fire prelude.

 

John revels in the sounds of the crowd still watching and the heat and her sharp teeth raking across his kisses. He fucks her with three slicing fingers again until she sucks on his darting tongue, gasping as he furiously adds a fourth; curling deep inside with a palm cupping her folds.

 

Twin knees pinch his sides. Her tongue licks the roof of his mouth, and somewhere down the side road a car engine kicks back; belching gasoline. Calvary arriving.

 

She mumbles a word against John’s mouth, feels him start to pull his lips away to hear her better but the Deputy slings an arm around his neck and angles her lips to his own again, moaning her pleasure until he falls into her like any other man would. _Maybe more than any man before_ , she thinks while hooking an ankle around the back of his thigh, dirtying his expensive jeans and clawing at the slicked hair on the back of his head. She messes the facade, licks off the honeyed words from his trembling lips and finally, it makes him snap just as she knew he would.

 

Whatever resolve John Seed had before shreds like a twined rope under pressure far beyond its design. His fingers leave her so empty - so close… but he’s gone only a moment, and she’s still there, however ruined she may well be. It’s cathartic hearing the snark from his throat - feeling his hunger gush out his lungs - while his belt buckle bangs and his zipper tears down with a quick metal rip. There’s no rhyme or reason to him now. He’s gone. Mad like a dog. Mad and hungry. He’s off whatever leash Joseph had him on… if he’d ever had him on one to begin with. Though she can hear tires bouncing over off-road terrain and knows - somehow - who sits in the back, the Deputy lets John flip her over on her stomach so he can mount her before the flock.

 

It’ll be worth it to see Joseph find his younger brother balls deep inside the little Deputy - the burr The Father's his heel. She raises her hips like some people rise for sermon as John jerks her to her knees - one flat palm holding her stomach with long fingers sluicing through the muck; gripping her where he can get a good grip.

 

His cock nudges her between cunt and inner thigh as he leans in and whispers, “The harder you fight this, Deputy… well, I guess the harder I’ll have to fuck you. Won’t I?”

 

“... all talk,” she backlashes with a worthless throat, half-grinning as his finger dent hipbone and bruise.

 

Sticky bumping and fumbling - too eager to get his cock shoved inside - brings her back to a time when she first realized how pleasure could wash the pain away… if not for just a little while. The back of car seats with sweaty, hurried touches. Guys who just wanted a fuck and others that wanted more but never got it. She blinks away the frowning sight of a Peggie wearing the worried face of her mother and lifts her ass up an inch higher.

 

One fisted angle to the side and John’s cockhead breeches her dripping cunt. He says her name even though he shouldn’t know it, and runs her through until all those fingers he’d fucked her with before signify nothing when she’s stuffed full with the girth and depth his cock reaches.

 

The headlights of a Jeep slow to a halt and the crowd parts. Peggie’s are still chanting and hollering and goading John on while he snarls with pleasure, moaning her name, and fucking her in a haze. If he notices the slam of the Jeep door, his thrusts don’t tell.

 

Fingers thread through her wet, muddy hair, fisting a handful and jerks up spine into a bend. The Deputy winces, then laughs brokenly. Bare breasts bounce with elbows shaking and yeah… it’s Joseph stepping out the vehicle. The shirtless middle brother stands there between a hushed crowd as his little brother fucks the life out of her; blind to the sin he’s broadcasting to the one man he had to keep his obsession from. It’s clear now that the radio taps by John and those warrant letters - signed by him - left on the Peggie corpses she's run through, are proof of his interest.

 

The cock he hammers inside her - the slap of her ass against his bare, firm hips and the goading, divulging words he gasps down at her - it’s all a confession. Not hers. John says too much with his words let alone his actions, and she’s gotten good at listening to flesh. He delves in deep, hooks a hand around the bend of her hip, and pounds her as though it’s his first and last real fuck. She bites her tongue and watches Joseph frown out the corner of her eye. The Father is most disappointed she notes and smiles and moans louder just to see the blue go hot in his eyes.

 

As John debases himself by trying to corrupt her, she grins in ghostly breaths and gasps a hot, fast ‘yes.’

 

The man behind her makes a noise beyond lechery and beyond gratitude. He hugs her around her middle with one firm arm like a lover would and fucks into her close enough that her cervix aches against the bulb of that savage cock. Pleasure becomes a dull, bumping throb but it’s just right, and the look on Joseph's face is all she needs to claw her way to another, morbidly beautiful end.

 

She cums just before Joseph clears the distance with a golden aviator-obscured look. Betrayal and rage. There’s lust there too. Of course, there is, and yet the sin is crossed out on his lower back as though he’s above it. He’s not. None of them are, and none more shackled by it than John Seed is as the sudden loss of her warm, welcoming cunt makes him whimper.

 

Joseph throws his brother off her by his vest lapels most like. John hits the ground with a snarl like an animal thrown from a bleeding carcass before the sound is suddenly dead and there’s nothing but her panting breaths and his thin, wheezing fear.

 

“What did you hope to accomplish here, John?”

 

Mud coats along her hip and ribs, sticking to her shoulder as she twists on her side and throws herself on her back. A second skin paints her body - proof of what John did to her.

 

The stars glimmer as they had before while John says something so low that the Deputy - as well-fucked as she is - doesn’t hear.

 

Her naked body pounds with lust not yet fulfilled despite how good it feels. Had John been allowed to continue his sinful, lusty lesson, would she have been as forthcoming of her sin as he said she’d be? It’d be an easy thing to blame the Bliss bullets for her cumming so easily - giving in so swiftly. Bliss was the scapegoat, but it’s not the truth. John Seed… if proven anything tonight, it’s that lying to herself gets her nowhere. All those denials she’s given and got - no good. Acceptance is the only way forward.

 

 _Yes - that goddamn fucking word…_ she’ll have to thank him for it one day.

 

The taste of the word still stings her lips - poison kisses. It flows from her like sap, same as her pleasure had around his cock - a thick, giving rod of steely flesh that he’s tucking away now. His belt clicks and that muffled grunt he makes sounds like a man trying to strap down a pulsating erection.

 

 _Serves him right to get caught with his pants down,_ she thinks as she lies there, breathing hard.

 

“No, Joseph…” comes the voice of a man culled by a witness to his sin. Maybe it’s fear, perhaps it’s something she’s got no name for, but it is enough for Joseph. Forgiveness, even in the face of such blatant sin, is forgiven.

 

The Peggie’s listen as Joseph preaches the trappings of sin and how they’ve born witness to it befell even the strongest of their flock and all the while she watches the way John stands there with a shoe in the water and his jeans soaked in mud… gaze hot on her weakened body.

 

‘Yes,’ he mouths towards her splayed self while Joseph’s back is turned. _Yes,_ she thinks and chuckles silently into the cold, bitter night while the mock sermon is spoken by a madman.

 

She’s given freedom in the end. Left on the side of the road with a musky jacket that reeks of John’s cologne and her radio but nothing else. It’s a final claim to fame by a man supposedly above the desires most men are. He’s just as sick as she is except now… the Deputy accepts it for what it is.

 

There’s a new little bit of revenge running between her teeth when she patches Dutch in for a pickup; the radio fizzing with dried mud.

 

Drunken fucks. Memories of hazy coupling and empty leftovers are foggier than before. Washed away like hard-earned sweat after a hot bath. She’s clear-headed now. John did something with his display and his feral touch… maybe not what he intended, but he did it regardless. She’s awake now. No more denial. No more hiding from her own sin...

 

Dutch sounds like he’s got a toothpick rolling around in his mouth when he chats back, “You want I should get ah’ medic sent to yur location? - Ain’t soundin’ too hot from here. Over.”

 

Against the pale moonlight, she rolls her dirty cheek into the cuff of John Seed’s jacket and smirks, “Nope... but I’ll take a fresh pair of clothes, please,”  she pauses. The radio crackles static as her cunt pounds pleasantly - eager for more, “also some wet wipes and send someone with a beard. Over.”

 

John’s only success tonight has been to stoke a dying fire.

 

The Deputy is coming for him...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my friend for the request! I hope they, and all you who've read enjoyed it. I didn't think I'd be as into John Seed as I got. Kinda thought he was a pretty boy with an edge lord fantasy, but as he grew more sadistic and 'sexually' interested in the Female Deputy, I got into it. If you have the time, please leave me a comment and let me know what you liked or didn't like. <3
> 
> Thanks for Darth Fucamus for reading this over for major issues. All typos are mine.
> 
>  
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